


Just a Trinket

by Tilperiel



Series: Silver & Gold [8]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Age, Light Angst, M/M, Third Age, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 00:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18399470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilperiel/pseuds/Tilperiel
Summary: Some things are priceless, no matter the cost





	Just a Trinket

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Gabrielseven and my Tumblr anon for the prompts

What did you give someone who had everything they wanted and you lived in a city cut off from the world? There were only so many new things that could be made in Gondolin and they were of the usual kind; jewellery was always a good choice, or a new blade perhaps? A new shirt or robe or maybe a sweet treat? 

Glorfindel perused the stalls in the market, those behind them smiling and offering him their wares as he passed them by, stopping here and there to look and thanking them for their time. Whatever he picked out would be a token at best, for neither he nor Ecthelion were materialistic in that sense, valuing things for the sentiment and not for their worth otherwise. It wasn’t wise to hold to objects too preciously, for they were fleeting and could be lost. _Would_ be lost, given enough time, as history had borne out. 

Ironic, he knew, and smiled wryly to himself, given the reason they were here in the first place and he wasn’t in the Great Market in Tirion right now, but he also wasn’t one to dwell. He handed over a small pile of coins and took the gift he’d chosen, a small item wrapped in deep blue silk and with thanks he tucked it safely away.

* * *

A bright shaft of sunlight through the unshaded windows shone across the bedroom, rousing its sleeping inhabitants. It was late winter and there was still snow on the ground, not encouraging either of them to rise and go about the day, although _waking_ was another matter. 

“Good morning,” Ecthelion murmured leaning to place a soft kiss behind Glorfindel’s ear as they stirred. His response was to hum and pull the sheets further over himself, though at the same time wrapping a leg around Ecthelion’s and drawing him closer against his back. 

“You’re letting all the warmth out,” he complained lightly, eyes blinking against the light in the room, a chuckle stirring his hair.

“You seem plenty warm enough to me,” Ecthelion countered, an arm wrapping securely round his chest, “but if you say otherwise, I can think of ways to help with that.”

“Do we have time?” Glorfindel asked, wriggling back and turning his neck for more of the kisses being placed, soft and unhurried. 

“Aranwë’s taken your duties today. I have Elemmakil taking mine. Have you forgotten what day it is?” 

“Hmm, remind me?” There was a smile evident in Glorfindel’s voice, earning him a light poke and he laughed quietly and rolled himself over in Ecthelion’s arms. “I have a gift for you,” he said quietly, a hand curving around his jaw and settling in close.

“I have one for you too, but later,” Ecthelion said, eyes drifting closed and shifting even closer. Glorfindel shivered lightly at the intimate contact and Ecthelion’s breath whispered against his lips. “You’re still cold I see, let me warm you.” 

* * *

Lessons from history are seldom learned. Kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall. Years pass by until even those who age only with the world itself may count times as long ago. Some things are lost forever and yet, some things are found again. No rhyme or reason and happenstance alone might bring a blade, or three, to light once more. There might be small things too, passed through many hands, revered not for value by coin, or even through expert craftsmanship. 

“My lord.”

A knock and Glorfindel looks up, a face he knows well and the lady enters his office. Closes the door behind her.

“So formal! To what do I owe this pleasure? No trouble to report, I hope?” He smiles and she smiles in return, although she sighs softly as she sees that his does not quite reach his eyes. 

His second in command, Belenwen formally of the House of the Sparrow, now one of those few left in these lands who knows him of old. Truly knows him and he sighs too, for he’s no fool.

There’s snow on the ground outside the barracks and winter is about to break. 

She doesn’t ask him how he is.

“I came across something,” she says instead, “one of the travellers was selling trinkets. Some of them relics, although, _they_ didn’t know that.” 

She raises one brow and gives half a smile and reaches over to place an object before him. He looks down at it and swallows and looks up at Belenwen with bright, shining eyes.

“I thought you could put it in safe keeping, until you can return it to it’s owner,” she says and he nods as she rises and he makes to stand too. 

“No,” she says quickly, then softer as pain crosses her features. Pity and her own grief, no doubt, before it’s gone once more. “No. You have no duties today, my friend. If you need me, you know where I’ll be.”

The door closes as she leaves and Glorfindel stays where he’s sat and reaches out with a shaking hand. 

It’s nothing much; a small silver hair clasp. Seed diamonds and sapphires no bigger than the head of a pin each, but he turns it in the light and it shimmers and glitters. He hears an echo of bright laughter and a snatch of music. The colours blend together and he blinks to clear his vision. His fingers close around it and he brings them to his lips.

It’s just a token. A small trinket, but the memories it holds are precious.


End file.
